


The love of a Pooka

by KiltedGuy



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Cheating, Fearlings, Inspired by Pooka-Curse March Hyde, M/M, Multi, Pooka - Freeform, Seduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiltedGuy/pseuds/KiltedGuy
Summary: When he helped to free Aster's people from the Fearling curse, he thought things would only get better between them.Hurt and betrayed, Jack finds solace in a jet black Pooka who understands him more than anyone has in 300 years...





	1. The Warren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery and Revelation.

* * *

The Warren had never been so crowded before.

Before, the vast rolling hills of grass were devoid of people. The farmlands barren, apart from one very small corner. The dens empty and gathering dust over the centuries.

Now hundreds, perhaps just shy of a thousand lapine like folk were exploring the vast, underground cavern, laughing, soaking up the rays from the First Light with undisguised rapture. Kits laughed as they ran around golems and adults, the past terrors a mere memory.

Despite the exhaustion set deep into his bones, Jack couldn't help but smile with pride. He had never brought a race back from extinction before.

It was surprising, to say the least, when he had heard what Pitch had done to the Pooka. Twisted and distorted them into creatures of oil and shadow, that fed on terror and could infect you with the same dark corruption. It was no wonder that Aster was the most antagonised by the former General.

Aster...

Taking a rest on one of the taller cliffs, his legs dangling over the edge, Jack tried to keep his worries at the back of his mind. Fifteen years ago, they had both confessed to some mutual attraction, and had decided to see how they got on. Ten years ago, the lapine alien had asked him to move in, and...

The first two years were... amazing. Aster was an attentive and patient boyfriend, and when Jack mustered up enough courage to climb into his nest that first time, he was so... appreciative and careful. Like his Snow White skin was made of fine bone china, delicate and precious.

Then...

He shook his head. Aster had a lot on his plate. What with Easter, Guardian duties, monitoring over the First Light, trying not to tumble into depression whenever he checked the seals of the prison of his former people... He could forgive him for being less patient with him. For his insistence that no one know they were together, possibly misinterpreting Jack's youthful appearance matching an equally youthful mind. It made sense.

And when he stopped letting Jack touch him except when they were in his nest, well, they dealt with a lot of creatures and personifications in their role as protectors... Aster said it was for his own safety, as the rabbit had made plenty of enemies that could, and would, hurt Jack merely for associating with him. It made sense.

And now that he has his people back... people that he hasn't seen since before life was on this planet... he couldn't,  _wouldn't_ deny him the chance to reconnect with his people. Even if he was still recovering his strength.

Undoing the corruption was a difficult task. The First Light, coupled with Aster's Pooka magic and Jack's ability to banish darkness with laughter and snowflakes all focusing together to drive away the dark. Not from the outside in, as previous failed attempts, but from the inside out.

The look on his boyfriend's face when the shadows drifted away like fog in the early morning, leaving behind a pale grey furred rabbit man was worth the bone deep ache and exhaustion. How could he say no to curing another? And another, and another...

Only when he had collapsed after the fifth did Aster realise the stress the procedure was having in Jack. But he couldn't blame him. After being so alone for only 300 years, the idea of millennia without your own kind was, ironically, terrifying. How could he refuse Aster the chance to save his people?

So on it went. He would purify Pooka after Pooka, collapse, rest, then start again. Days, weeks, months, until the last cell had been emptied. And each time the ache would grow. And each time he would see less of Aster.

He wouldn't blame him.

It had been five months since the last of the fearlings had been returned to their true form. And Jack hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Hope Guardian for three. Not since he woke up from the last burst of energy needed to free the last of the Pooka. 

He wasn't worried. He wasn't. Honest.

He pushed off from the cliff and allowed the wind to carry him back to the Den they had shared, Jack now spending most of his nights at North's soaking in the ice and wind much like a human would a hot tub, recovering his strength. Tonight he was hoping would be the first time he could stay in the Warren overnight since his last collapse, and was looking forward to have his lover curl round him again like he used to.

As he landed, he noted several Pooka roaming around, whose faces lit up and smiled as they approached the teen. He was there when each of them had woken up from the waking dream of the Fearling corruption, and they watched as he pushed himself harder and harder to free them all. As a result, he currently had 900+ Pooka all ready and willing to smother the lad in praise and gratitude whenever he showed up.

He should have felt something wrong when he saw the door of their den open and a couple of Pooka exited. Aster was always adamant that guests never set foot inside, and even Jack had to be officially welcomed in the first time, hand in paw. North, Tooth, Sandy... bond of them had been granted access, even now. Slowly, leaning on his staff harder than usual, he approached and pushed open the door, swinging back on silent hinges. Evidence of multiple Pooka lay on the table and sink, plates and cups long stored but never used soaking in the water. Fingers gripping his staff tighter, he pushed deeper into the den, following the slope down to the Nest chamber.

He wasn't worried. There was nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.

There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for those familiar noises the closer he got to the nest. There was a reason why signs of recent excavation dotted the tunnel. There... there had to be a reason for the now familiar scent of a Pooka rutting.

Just because he couldn't think of anything, doesn't mean there wasn't . There had to be.

He wanted to believe, so much, that what was going on when he pushed open that silent door was innocent. He was honestly surprised that the Hope he was feeling didn't alert him to his presence, but after all, he was quite... occupied at the moment.

He clenched his staff tightly when he heard Aster make  _that_ noise. He knew what it meant, memories of strong arms wrapped around him, hot breath on the back of his neck, a dull but satisfying ache and the heat building up inside him.  ~~~~

It was at that moment that a panting Aster looked up and met Jack's gaze, the post exertion glow making his thoughts foggy for a few moments before realisation kicked in, flinching visibly.

Ice cracked along the floorboards before Jack could help himself, raising his staff off the floor and twisting round quickly enough to almost make him dizzy, bare feet tapping across the wood swiftly. He ignored the yell of his name, the curses and grunts as he disentangled himself from... from whoever. He ignored the pleasant salutations from passing Pooka, who jumped aside quickly at the sheer chill pouring out of the youth.

The door was slammed open by the wind and shut again, buying Jack valuable seconds as Aster shoved it back open, yelling for him.

He pauses just long enough to look back, the Pooka still exposed, evidence currently dropping to the grass below, grimacing as he lowered his head.

"I wanted to believe... I hoped, ha... that I was being stupid. That the exhaustion was playing tricks on my mind."

The wind slowly lifted him off his feet.

"Hope that it was worth it..."

"Jack... snowflake, listen, it's... I mean, I'm a Pooka and-"

The icy gust sapped what little strength he had left, running on sheer spite now, a faint smirk tugging at Jack's lips as the Guardian hunched over protectively around his vulnerable extremity.

"And I wasn't enough. I get it. Have 'fun' Aster..."

He refused to look back as the wind swept him towards the Warren's entrance, ignoring Aster's calls and the confused mumblings of the Pooka who had overheard. Clenched his eyes tightly shut as they itched and threatened to water. No destination in mind except far away, where no Australian accented aliens could find him.

The wind carefully lowered him down next to an icy lake and shuddered as Jack dropped his staff carelessly, hugging his knees to his chest and let out a strangled sob that echoed further than any sound had any right to, head lowered against his knees...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that March Hyde was created by Pooka-Curse on tumblr, but has deleted their account a few years ago. So when he does show up, all credit for the character goes to them!


	2. Ink Black Fur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was recently made aware that Pooka-Curse doesn't like people using March Hyde, so I will be tweaking the character somewhat. Sorry if I disappointed anyone!
> 
> Please feel free to google his name's meaning!

Normally, Jack would have been more aware of the rustling of the nearby bushes; a lifetime spent alone and recent Guardian training giving him a spatial awareness many would envy. In his current condition however, keeping an ear out for trouble was the last thing on his mind.

Looking back, it was easy to see when Aster went from seeing him as a boyfriend, then lover, then... just nest furnishing. It would always be Aster who initiated things lately, and would pull away from his touch if he tried reaching out, blaming the cold.

Jack pulled himself tighter into himself, head against his knees. Was he that desperate for affection that he willingly ignored the signs? He used to make fun of those exact same fools while people watching in his pre Guardian days!

"Well lookit what we got here..."

Jack's head shot up as he reached out to grab his staff, eyes widening as his fingers only met frosted grass. With a burst of wind he rose up and twisted round, preparing to defend himself if needby.

"Th' bloody saviour o' th' Pooka, bawlin' his eyes oot. 

The figure was obviously a Pooka, but not like those in the Warren. His fur was such a deep dark that Jack had almost mistaken him for a Fearling, dark grey markings over his chest and arms. In his hands were his staff, carefully being twirled and examined, tossed and spun. With an unpleasantly familiar grin, he caught the staff as it descended and lightly tossed it to the Snow White Guardian, bounding back and leaning his shoulder against a tree trunk.

"Nae harm done, jus' curious ye know. Not everyday ye see someone who brought a bloody race back frae th' brink so distressed."

The accent was hard to place, Jack snatching the staff out of the air and relaxing a little at the welcome tingle in his fingertips. It sounded old, slightly out of place. Was It Irish? Maybe a bit of Welsh?

Gripping the staff in both hands and leaning, he ignored the frozen tears at his eyes, watching the rabbit.

"Was that... my fault? I'm sorry. Guess I wasn't as strong as I thought..."

The Pooka tilted his head to the side in confusion before looking down at himself, understanding dawning and a chuckle escaping his lips.

"Haha, nah mate, relax. Most o' th' folk ye rescued were Summer Pooka. Seelie. Mah folk are Winter Pooka. Unseelie. Though, ah admit, ah dabbled a bit wi' Darkness."

The rabbit pushed off from the tree trunk theatrically, sweeping low in a bow.

"But where are mah manners? M. Hellebore Samhain, at yer service Jack Frost."

Removing an imaginary hat, he tossed the winter sprite a cheeky wink, straightening back up.

"Now, forgive a Pooka's curiosity but ain't ye got a mate who should be drying' yer tears?"

His eyes softened slightly as he gave out a hitched breath, pulling his staff closer to his chest. Rubbing the back of his neck, Hellebore looked around before spying an old, frosted tree trunk, grabbing hold and effortlessly dragging it over to the edge of the lake. With a spry leap, he vaulted over and plonked his rear down, patting the bark on the other end.

"C'mon lad, ah may not be th' most sociable o' folk, but ah'm all ears. See?"

With a grin he flicked one of his flipping ears, growing wider as Jack gave a small hiccuping chuckle. Slowly, the Guardian sat down, still keeping a tight hold of his staff Hellebore noted with a small pang of disappointment and sat in silence for a while.

Then he began to talk.

\--------------

The sun had set by the time Jack had finished and, exhausted by the flight, the revelation and reliving it through explaining to Hellebore, he had found a moderately comfortable tree, entwining himself in the branches with the practice that came of 300 years sleeping outside, swiftly descending into dreamless sleep. He was still recovering from freeing so many Pooka after all.

Leaning back against the tree trunk, arms folded, Samhain scowled at an innocent patch of snow, lost in thought. Happy to see his people again, that was fine. But to take advantage and toss away a lad that just wanted some affection?

Unseelie Pooka preferred their own company, or that of family. It was why he left the bright, warm Warren in the first place, preferring the colder northern climes. Looking up at the near unconscious sprite who sacrificed so much to bring him, and the rest of them, out of the dark, he gave a grim nod and pushed away from the trunk. Taking a moment to stretch out should the worst come to pass, he thumped his foot onto the frost covered earth twice and leapt down the opening tunnel.

He had a few words for the Hope Guardian. Maybe a few fists as well.

\--------------

Aster hadn't left the den since Jack showed up. Slumped on the floor with his back to the door. Already, word had spread to the whole clan, angry mutterings and barbed stares surrounding him whenever he so much as dared to poke his head out.

He knew it was wrong. But at the end of the day, Aster was a Pooka. He should be with a Pooka, and while he regretted the pain he put Jack through, it was for the best.

He firmly tramped down on the bitter internal commentary that argued back, listing names in his very own family that had lived long, happy, loving relationships with non-Pooka, the memories of Jack smiling, the elation when he had shyly said yes that first time...

"Aster Bunnymund! Ah demand  _Dubhlan_! Come oot o' there!"

Aster blinked a few times before standing and twisting, peering out the window. Dubhlan? No Pooka had initiated a challenge for centuries! Well, centuries before the Fearling corruption at any rate.

Standing in front of the Den's entrance, surrounded in a wide circle by other, more lighter coloured Pooka, was a figure  who seemed to exude Dark and cold, arms folded and with a familiar hunch that suggested that his secondary pair could, and would, emerge at the slightest provocation. 

"Bunnymund! Ah name myself Jack Frost's  _An Darna_! Will you not face me?!"

The gathered crowd of Pooka exchanged glances, but no one challenged the declaration. Aster had proven himself unfaithful and hid his mated status from the Pooka as a whole. Silently, in twos and threes, they moved to stand behind the Winter Pooka, wordlessly voicing their approval.

Aster gripped the handle of the door tightly, eyes clenched shut. An Darna. His Second. Someone who fights on the first's behalf. He chuckled bitterly to himself. Jack had a knack for working into the hearts of others, and it seemed this time he had turned his whole people against him.

Again that little voice spoke up, reminding him that it was his infidelity that caused this. 

With a sigh he straightened himself up, adjusted his physique to a slightly more impressive build and twisted the handle, stepping out.


	3. An Accepted Challenge

The silence in the Warren, save for the eternal breeze that rustled the vegetation, was uncanny with the sheer number of people gathered, all enclosing the Den of the Hope Guardian and his Winter Pooka challenger. Standing firm with folded arms, Hellebore stared with flint like eyes as the door opened and the grey pelted bunny himself walked out, deliberately calm. Instantly the muttering  and whispering started up, silenced by a wave of Aster's hand.

"You sure you wanna challenge a Guardian mate?"

Samhain ignored him, arms flopping down at his sides and shaking, loosening them up.

"Challenger has th' right t' name th' challenge egg boy."

Cautiously, the pair began to circle, eyes locked on each other. With a flex of the paws, Aster's claws slid out from his fingertips, Hellebore opting to bristle his fur instead. With a smirk, he hunched down, sitting mockingly on Aster's own turf, arms resting on his thighs.

"An mah challenge is... Courtin' Jack Frost."

Even the breeze died down at that, the Warren full of Pooka stunned into silence until, with a roar, Aster vaulted with claws outstretched, Hellebore leaping low, under his opponent's torso.

"Rack off ye bloody- He's my mate! He's-"

Landing and twisting round, a light frost creeping along the bristled fur, solidifying them, Hellebore gave a smirk and flicking his tail in an intended insult.

"Your mate?  _Jack_ doesn't think so."

The needle like quip done its job beautifully, Aster missing the landing and skidding before righting himself.

"And he has a point, ain't he? When d'ye last show him any affection? Let him touch ye... hold ye... when d'ye last tell him ye loved him?"

The Guardian visibly flinched with each accusation, growling and gritting his teeth, unable to dispute the facts and he knew it. Instead he swung his limbs harder, trying to connect with the constantly moving Unseelie.

"An' he has t' track ye down... near collapsin' wi' exhaustion, lookin' fer his  _mate_ t' show a wee bit o' care... after three months wi' no sign o' ye. Tell me Aster... jus' how long did ye wait 'fore ye went courtin' th' lasses o' oor kind?"

With a yell, Aster twisted and thrust his leg out, catching Hellebore's arm and cursing as his sole was jabbed, pulling back to flex new life into his limb. Shrugging off the blow, the Winter Pooka smirked at the scowling, contemplative look on his opposition's face, knowing he had struck a nerve. Hellebore's words echoed within Aster's head and his protests and explanations were growing feebler by the moment. Cracking a few bones to loosen up, Samhain smirked as he mentally tossed down his Ace card, a paw rubbing along his thigh to the arch of his legs...

"But ah gotta admit, ye hav' taste... That slim body... damn, wonder what shapes he could pull wi' that... an' those blue eyes, lookin' up at ye as he cries oot...  that innocent smile that promises some not so innocent fun later..."

He cackled as Aster bellowed and leapt,  landing and immediately going on the offensive with swinging claws and thrusting kicks, snarling with rage. Sacrificing a patch of frozen fur to Aster's claws, he landed a kick against his gut and shoved him back, pointing at his face.

"An' th' first thin' he said when he saw me? Th' lad  _apologised_... thought he fucked mah purification... Even after all ye put him through, his first thought was fer a stranger."

He let his fur soften, the frost leaving quickly under the First Light, rubbing down his patchy spot. Aster glared back at him, panting and reluctantly sheathing his claws, glaring daggers.

"And th' worst part... th' bloody idiot still has feelin's fer ye... Not that ye deserve it. Ye hurt him, bad, an' he still loves ye."

The pair glared at each other until Aster stood, approaching the centre of the impromptu ring formed by the observing crowd. The taller Summer opposite the bulkier Winter, muscles tending up unbidden as they ready themselves for another round. 

Each were lost to their own thoughts, Aster focusing on Hellebore's declaration that Jack still loved him, Hellebore himself wondering how a Pooka as old and worldly as the Hope Guardian would let such innocent love and affection slip through his fingers for a mere roll in the hay with a lass with a bit of fur on her. Aster snorted deeply, mentally making plans: he had a few favours from Winter spirits to cash in, it would be easy to find a proper gift Jack would appreciate alongside his apology. Hellebore just wondered how long it would take for the love starved soul to realise Aster was no good for him.

"Fine. Laws are laws. What're your conditions."

"Arogant bugger... Fine. We don't tell 'im. Th' lad doesn't need t' know yer only tryin' t' get back wi' him through a bloody contest. One year frae t'day he'll have t' choose one o' us. An' most importantly? Nae sex ye bastard. Ye want him back? Ye have t' win his heart, no his body."

Raising his fist into the air, he glared up st the taller Aster. Pouring as much hate as he could into his stare.

"But lemme be frank... compared t' someone who gie's a damn aboot his happiness, th' odds are most certainly not in yer favour."

With a clenched jaw, Aster rose up his own fist, back to back with Hellebore's.

"And no bringing the other Guardians into this. Agreed?"

Hellebore nodded and the pair swiftly smacked the backs of their clenched fists together, pulling back instantly. The crowd let out a yell as one, witnesses and enforcers of the Challenge's conditions. Twisting on his heel, Aster strode back to his den, trying to pretend that the growing iron weight in his gut wasn't fear, or even worry that he might lose this challenge, nor the fact that Helleboe had been right about everything. He firmly squashed down that annoying little voice that asked was he really doing this because he loved Jack, or that he saw Jack as "His".

Spitting onto the ground, Hellebore started his way back to the tunnels that ran out of the Warren, mentally cursing the heat and brightness of the First Light suspended above, half closing his eyes. A part of him also asked if he was doing this for the right reasons, but he had to admit that what he had seen of the winter sprite's personality and grace definitely left him wanting more.

With a brief, business like nod to the small group that had followed him, Hellebore bounded into the mercifully dark and cool tunnels, mind already making plans.

\---------

Jack slowly swayed his legs over the bank of the lake, toes skimming the surface and sending fern patterns across its surface. In one hand he had a bunch of glittering, clear, faceted shards, holding one up to the weak winter sun. Pinching harder and harder, the shard burst apart into diamond dust swept up and away by the breeze.

He had never equated tears with beauty until now.

With a burst of anger he tossed the handful into the lake, watching the ripples bounce and refract off each other before calming once more, as smooth as glass. Jack wished he could become so still so easily, his guts twisting up and his stomach feeling like lead. 

He nearly felt the brief rumbling that signalled an opening Warren tunnel, sighing before looking back, faintly puzzled at the empty space behind him. Only when he turned back round towards the lake did he almost swallow the small collection of flowers held out by a black Pooka carefully balancing on one leg at the very edge of the bank.

"Slept well lad? Ye got a bit less colour t' yer cheeks at least." 

Leaping to the side and casually brushing a few snowflakes from his shoulder, Hellebore grinned and held out the small bouquet once more.

"A 'Thank ye' fer everythin' ye've done fer mah kind Jack. Ain't much, but ah do what ah can."

A part of him hoped Jack would understand the ring of mistletoe around the stems, or the colour of the Sarcococca and the placement of the Clematis, but he had a feeling Aster wouldn't be the type to explain plant meanings. The small smile that flitted across his face was enough however, and he had to firmly stamp down on the urge to start drumming his foot like a Leverat. In all honesty, he couldn't understand Aster at all by risking that porcelain face looking so upset.

"Remember this lad, ye've got a whole people who praise ye as a saviour... We at least know how t' show our appreciation!"

His heart both swelled and cracked as the sprite pulled the flowers closer, fingers trailing over leaves and petals as though he would break them. Was he never introduced to the beauty of winter plants before? Of course not, Summer Pooka.

Still, he mentally chalked this up as a win on his side as Jack carefully examined each and every detail, his face breaking out in the first honest smile since he first met the lad.

Your move Aster.


	4. Housewarming

Jack felt as though he had learnt more about the Pooka in two hours than he had with Aster over a whole decade.

Upon Hellebore's deceleration that he still looked peaky, whatever that meant, the dark furred alien asked him to settle down before bounding deeper into the near silent, snowy forest, quickly swallowed by the broken black and white pattern of snow and sticks. When he returned with a fat boar over a shoulder, he learnt three important lessons.

Pooka weren't herbivores, Aster just choose to go vegetarian.

Pooka were apparently terrifyingly efficient hunters when they put their mind to it.

And lastly, while he shied away from the flames, meat roasted over an open flame was probably the best damn thing he had tasted since his "resurrection".

Hellebore just grinned after he had watched Jack devour the first carved slice , already preparing another.

"Aye, most Summer Pooka don't like meat... can't say ah agree."

He listened with half an ear as Hellbore went on to describe the now lost homeworld and its creatures, the pet he used to have, favourite fruits left behind. The architecture now a faded memory in the Warren, the cultural heroes that inspired generations and their own myths and legends, collecting the picked clean bones.

"Kinda ironic when ye think 'bout it. Now mah kind are th' myth. Makes me wonder if there were some truth t' th' old tales."

Strong paws dug a small trench and nudged the bone pile into it, pulling a few seeds from Moon only knew and dropping them in before replacing the mound of earth. Jack forced himself to sit up straighter, the warm, full feeling lulling him to sleep.

"Do all Pooka have something to do with plants?"

Hellebore paused and looked round, tapping toes thoughtfully.

"Kinda lad. Growth, fertility, lil' bit o' healin'... 'Spose that could all condense t' gardenin'!"

He laughed and grinned at the Guardian before folding his arms.

"Right, we gotta get you home lad. Where d'ye sleep?"

With sleep threatening to pull him under at any moment, Jack just shrugged and gestured back to the tree he had napped in, using his staff to help himself back on his feet. Hellebore glanced at the tree and back before straightening up fully, leaning back a little in surprise.

"Ah thought... surely someone as powerful as ye would hav' yer own Domain? Like Sandman, Th' Tooth Fairy, even damned Pitch?"

Cheeks tinged blue in an embarrassed blush, Jack mumbled softly and shook his head. No one ever took the time to teach him about his powers, even after becoming the fifth Guardian, and when he moved in with Aster, the point had been moot anyway. Hellebore started scratching on his flopped over ear tip, deep in contemplation before suddenly nodding firmly.

"Well, ah ain't an expert lad, but ah'm a Pooka. One thing we know how t' do, it's dig."

With that he started cracking the bones in his paws to lumber them up, slowly altering the shape from more dexterous fingers to shovel like paws.

"Won't be much o' a home, but it'll do fer a few days..."

 _And,_ he thought to himself  _It'll give me time to call in a few favours..._

_\-----------------------_

Aster sat and stared into his paw, fingers lightly tracing the small, hand carved wooden trinket he had found, eyes wide but unseeing.

He remembered when Jack had shyly came up to him to hand over the gift... Some winter spirit celebration or something, and this time there was no denying the twist in his gut. He remembered Jack going on about the holiday, about something linking the long dark nights and lovers, about gifts, and to his growing shame he realised he remembered more about the paint mixtures he was working on that day than his supposed mate's excitement.

The wooden rabbit in his paws was slowly turned and examined at every angle, Aster's toes curling. It was a work of art, no doubt about that. 300 years alone would give anyone enough time to perfect their craft. The details subtle, yet conveyed so much more than they let on at first glance, lovingly smoothed and treated to resist all weather, even Jack's own frost. There were even small petal shapes around the rabbit's head as a crown, and he didn't need to be a genius to recognise the shape. A crown of Asters.

And his thoughts at the time were "that's nice" and went on with his paint.

Slowly, with belated reverence, he set the carving onto the table, meeting its accusing eye with his own.

Looking back, he could see so many instances when Jack had tried to be thoughtful, helpful or romantic, and usually he just brushed them off. Getting to his feet, he tried to ignore the many signs that Jack had tried to think of this place as his home. A hook for his crook. A hanger for his cloak. A chair pulled over into the cooler shadows, right by one of the bookcases, a half read book still on the arm rest with a frost blue bookmark between the pages. 

His feet began to move him as he was pulled down memory lane, small snippets of memory rising up and crashing over him like a wave before the next. Jack, struggling with the heat yet helping Aster round up the eggs. Jack, leaving small covered bowls of salad next to him when he became too focused to leave his work for something as mundane as food. Jack, curling up in the deepest pantry in the Warren, hugging himself tightly, frost creeping along the ground from his bare soles...

He may have welcomed him into his home, his den, but did he ever make him feel welcome?

His feet led him past one of the sets of windows, the Pooka outside scrambling as they brought Pots and Terrariums from across the Warren, carefully selected plants growing under their care. He didn't need to be a genius to recognise the winter plants, such as Rutabagas, celeriac and more. A few more Pooka were examining lengths of lumber before setting to work in teams of three or four, robust claws biting into the wood, shaping and carving. A few of the males had gotten together, tugging and teasing at the fluffy bundles of Cotten brought over by the youngest of the rescued, either setting it aside for spinning or teasing it out for stuffing.

He lowered his head and passed by. Jack had not, and would not, return, not for some time. It was hard to ignore the furniture being assembled, the entirety of the Pooka devoting their time to constructing items for their winter saviour. The wood was treated to resist the cold, the plants protected from frost by small, homely charms, the blankets weaved with an experimental reversal pattern to keep the chill in rather than out.

Small, simple things that, even without the aid of hundreds of helping hands, he could have taken care of. Should have taken care of.

His feet continued to lead him on, crossing the boundary from the light streaming in through the multiple windows into the shadowy interior, the dip in temperature noticeable. Did he even think before inviting him in? Did he ever give him space for his own chilling craft? The Warren had been full of empty, unused valleys. Why didn't he make one more comfortable for his own mate?

_Because he wasn't worthy. He wasn't Pooka._

He bit his lip hard, not even attempting to deny it. He was so hung up on being "The Last Pooka" that he didn't even think about what was around him. He paused mid stride, arms hanging limp at his sides.

Did he ever see Jack as a mate? Or was he just... a diversion? He had never gone out of his way to make the sprite welcome, never tried to share what was his and his culture's with him, never saw to his needs that were screaming in his face.

And yet... According to his new "rival", Jack still loved him. Like he had done anything to deserve that type of loyalty.

For the first time he realised just where his feet had brought him, and his heart jumped up into his throat. His paw trembled as he reached out and slowly pushed open the door, breath catching in his chest as his eyes fell onto the bed that, until recently, was shared between him and his mate. And then by... he couldn't even remember the name of the Doe he took to the nest, couldn't even say for sure that he had even asked. 

He closed his eyes and half turned away, paws balling into fists. Was that all it took? If they had been the only two then... there might have been some "save the race" excuse, but even that was flimsy at best. With a rare snarl, he latched onto the living wood and moss that comprised the nest and poured himself into it, watching the flora grow and twist out of it's carefully shaped form, turning and walking out. The growth would remain unchecked until the entire room was consumed, the door pulled in and the supporting struts removed. That room would be erased from the Den.

Leaping onto all fours, Aster sprinted to the Library, eyes burning.

He took Jack's love for granted, and worse, didn't even realise he was doing so. That had to change.

Bursting into the deep hall filled floor to ceiling, wall to wall with books, Aster headed straight for the rarely used seasonal section, the beginnings of a plan forming.

He would prove to Jack his heart was his alone. He would make up for his neglect and, somehow, his weakness. 

Grabbing the first book about winter spirits he could find, he yanked it out of the shelf and lit a candle. 

If this Hellebore thinks he could be a better mate than him, he's going to have to push himself hard to prove it.


	5. Black & Grey

"He did  _not_!"

Jack swallowed the mouthful of sesame cake along with a lump in his throat, nodding slowly. Buzzing around, and in some cases on, him, were dozens of iridescent winged fairies, each sporting a furious expression. Opposite the small table Tooth had thoughtfully placed near the cooler pond in her Domain, the Queen fairy herself stared with her jaw hanging open, a scandalised look on her face.

With the experience only royalty could obtain, it was quickly smoothed over with an air of quiet, calm fury as she lifted a small tea cup. Despite himself, Jack felt a small shiver run up and down his spine.

"Oh Jack... I'm so sorry..."

He gave a small, single shoulder shrug, lifting his ice tea carefully. The tiny cup alone could have been worth millions in a mortal museum and the last thing he needed right now was her disappointed look aiming at him. On his shoulder the familiar, if heavier, weight of Baby Tooth sat, soft croons and reassuring pats bringing a small smile to his face.

"You know... I have always wanted a Pooka tooth. Or two. I have the perfect spot in my collection, it would really be no trouble to-"

"Toooooooth..."

She gave a slightly exaggerated sigh and rested her chin in hand, wings fluttering a little. As unofficial "Big Sister" to the youngest, she was the first to inform Aster, in no uncertain terms, just what would happen if he ever hurt Jack. And a Queen always keeps her word. 

"Fine, fine... But I will get my Pooka tooth one day dear."

After all, her little fairys were quite adept at using pliers for more... difficult cases. 

Sensing that Aster's jaw was safe, for the time being, Jack began to go on about how he helped to cure the Fearlings, the revival of the Pooka and his new, not quite a Domain but still comfortable subterranean dwelling furnished by 100% Pooka crafts. Tooth gave a small smile as she watched his face light up when he described the clumsy figurines and paintings made by the few children to have been rescued. No matter the species, Jack was certainly a Guardian of Children through and through. She did, however, suggest talking to North about how he could create a Domain for himself. After she spread the word about Aster, naturally.

She did notice a pattern in his stories, sipping from her tea with a small knowing smile. About the Jet Black Pooka that seems to have made it his life's mission to seeing Jack well cared for, and she mentally made a note to have Baby Tooth take a team to follow him around. She'd be damned if she let a second Pooka mess with his heart.

\-------------

It had taken several bone-bitingly cold journeys into several Domains, gritted teeth negotiations and more fake smiles than a presidential campaign, but the little box he had tucked under his arm was worth it.

Probably. Hopefully.

Dropping back into the back entrance of the Warren, he sighed while placing the newest item on his workbench, rubbing his face.

Snow. On Easter. Of all the things he could have promised...

Quickly he shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand. Carefully, he unpacked the box and pulled out a small, floating shard of what appeared to be crystal, wincing a little as the fur on his fingers started to freeze over and turn brittle.

It would be worth it. Right now, anything would be worth it.

The crystal was guided into a golden apparatus and he sighed in relief as it clamped into place, starting to glow gently. Now came the hard part.

Outside the workshop, the Pooka who had taken it upon themselves to deal with the earliest Easter prep paused and stared at the near blinding blue light that poured out the windows, shaking their heads and moving on.

\-------------

This world was so different from home. It wasn't so terribly biased towards sunlight and heat, but contained a more even split, balanced between the two halves of the year.

Maybe more Winter Pooka would be born here, their summer cousins forced to accept that they weren't disabled or such nonsense just because they were born during a certain time of the year.

Jack was busier these days now that Winter had officially began, and while he regretted not spending as much time with him, he could certainly appreciate his art. 

Each blizzard was a masterpiece, the wind, the precipitation, the chill, all carefully blended together to create stunning vistas but, most importantly, didn't cripple the land in any way. The humans were free to travel, and if they found suitable shelter the wildlife could simply wait it out.

Or at least, he tried.

With a small sigh, Hellebore lifted the body of an unlucky badger that had been unable to find a place to hide from the storm. The fur and bones would be useful for a few crafts. The meat could be left out in the more heavily affected regions.

Jack was... young. Idealistic. He wouldn't intentionally harm anyone. But there was go getting around the fact that Winter played a rather crucial role. A cold, often accused as heartless role, but vital to the survival of the planet as a whole.

His feet made no sound as he walked atop the latest snow drift, watching a fox plunge through to the mice beneath. 

Without the harsh reality of winter to cull the weak, species would stagnate, overpopulation would threaten everything and the very land would soon exhaust itself trying to cope with the constant growth.

He bent, thumb stroking the head of another, unluckier fox that hadn't had a bite to eat for a week, directing a quick chill within. The starving creature closed its eyes, sleep and death arriving swiftly and painlessly. Respectfully, he lifted the cooling body and held it close rather than adding it to the sack he carried.

Aster could never understand this. He was all about growth and births and beginnings. And an unspoken, often shamefully thought of debt to Winter, clearing the old to make way for the new,  flesh and wood beneath the soil feeding their replacements.

Jack, for all his desire to be accepted, neglected or outright denied his role. Every Winter spirit went through it at some point. Let him live in ignorance a little while longer...

\------------

Sandy simply shook his head at the news, giving a silent sigh while patting Jack's arm. The sprite didn't visit often, his Frost solidifying the ever shifting castle of sand, but when he did he knew the dream Guardian would let him talk at his own pace.

For a while he just asked questions as he floated among the manta ray and whales Sandman had formed, occasionally pushed and poked by tiny micro dolphins whenever he started feeling too sorry for himself. Despite directing his castle to follow the setting sun, he kept up a constant stream of images and symbols, offering his own thoughts as his young teammate's thoughts started to circle, sometimes adding a caricature of a certain Bunny to pull a small chuckle out of him.

"You know what the worst thing is? If he had... you know... talked to me... I mean, 300 years without touch, I know how much you can... hunger for it. And going from last to... not?"

He hunched down, one arm around his knees as they brushed against his silver locks.

"I... would understand. If our situation was reversed, i'd... probably want to touch anot-"

A series of mini sand fireworks exploded in front of his face, the Star glaring while image after image flicked over his head too rapidly to follow, the frost spirit wincing and looking away. He couldn't be certain what he said, but he could hazard a guess.

"He's been alone for millennia, and I've only showed up in the space of a blink compared to that. I just..."

Sandy's tirade slowed and stopped as Jack's shoulders shook slightly, glittering, faceted ice shards dropping silently to the sand below. Setting down next to him, he started to pat the younger's back softly.

"Was I that easily forgotten? Again?"

Anyone watching the castle from outside would have been shocked to see the classical fairy tale building suddenly develop spikes, cannons and ballista and the Sandman's rage poured off in waves.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, been sitting on this chapter long enough, enjoy! North's reaction will have to come next chapter!


	6. Back to Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long, hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (I had this one half written for so long, I actually forgot about it. Sorry!)

Jack would never have considered Russian profanities soothing before, but the ex-bandit's constant barrage washed over him like an ocean wave, lulling him as he hung mid air from a gossamer thin structure of ice formed into a make shift hammock. Below him, door firmly iced over to prevent his escape, North strode back and forth in his office, angrily gesturing to the sky while thick boots tramped from door to window and back again.

Russia was a favourite spot for the spirit to roam, there was always a snow shower or frost occurring somewhere after all. He spent the better part of twenty years learning the language at some point, and despite himself he nodded along to some of the more descriptive threats.

A Pooka skin rug wasn't something to be sneezed at after all.

"Have you ever recorded yourself like this? It's like listening to the ocean. The filthy, violent ocean. And I don't think that last one is anatomically possible by the way."

A thick fist slammed into the frozen doorframe several times, each a little less hard until he was tapping the wood firmly. Sensing the giant of a man had calmed down, Jack let the hammock fall apart into a chilly mist, floating slowly down to the floor.

"Is not right. Bunny had no right!"

The sprite shrugged in agreement as North shook his finger in front of his face, tapping the ice with his cane in several spots and causing the structure holding the door shut to crumble into snow. Now that he had calmed down, it would be safe to let the man into the production areas of his workshop. Christmas was only a few months away after all, and an angry bandit could do a lot of damage, even unintentionally. Especially unintentionally.

"But... is still cause for celebration, yes? Fearlings cured... Never thought would see the day! And the return of Pooka! Very good news for world!"

His grinning face fell into a frown once more, half turning to glance at Jack.

"Are we angry at them too?"

The soft chuckle caught both of them by surprise, Jack running his fingers through his hair slowly.

"They didn't know. And they were pretty pissed when they found out."

A hesitant hand patted the younger spirit on the back a few times, guiding him towards the cooler guest rooms he set up for his winter associates, pausing only to check on a few designs in passing.

"Then good. Will organise a little Welcome gift. Bunny kept Warren intact, but hardly lived in."

Jack inhaled deeply as the temperature subtly started to fall as they walked down a hallway decorated in cooling blues and greys, nodding absently.

"I'm sure they'll appreciate it. The kits too."

A brief dark look flicked over North's face before he nodded, muttering  _Pitchner_ under his breath before loudly going into detail about what toys the young lapines would enjoy. A faint smile tugged at Jack when he noticed the Wonder Guardian made no plan to ask Bunny about what to give them. Petty. But after the last few  months and the latest week on top of that, he felt like he was owned some time to be petty.

 "As for Domains, will look out some books. Will soon set up your own Winter Wonderland, yes?"

Despite obtaining his tooth box years ago, Jack's memories of the time  _before_ were still mostly hazy. Understandable since, according to Tooth, the boxes are usually put into storage after their owner's death, their magic considerably weakened. But he retained enough dim recollections to firmly associate North as a father figure. Often strict, but always tended to the sprite's needs. Someone he would come to for advice, despite the usually poor jokes.

Though he still shuddered whenever he remembered the time the old bandit lead him away from the group when he and Jack had announced they were kinda, maybe, slightly seeing each other. It seemed that some things transcend the centuries, and the rather mortifying Talk was one of them.

North opened the door to guest room used by the more heat intolerant visitors and firmly clapped the younger spirit on the back.

"Now, is time to be resting. Been very..." He waved his hand in the air, as though he could pluck the word out of the aether. "...Difficult, shall we say. Sleep. Will bring books in morning."

The younger spirit gave a slow, grudging nod. He had certainly improved over the past few days rest, but though it grated at him, even he admitted that he needed more recovery time. Bidding the toy maker goodnight, he gratefully shut the door, soaking in the chill.

\---------------

Hellebore carefully scored at the ivory white ring, humming a few old tunes as he worked. Steadily, his claw chipped and scraped away at the material, blowing away dust from time to time. A similar collection lay next to his feet, each adorened by sharp, angular runes carefully etched around the circumference.

He had asked around, discretely, about what the whole Guardians thing was all about, and was rather pleased by the answer. Once more his thoughts drifted back to the fall of his people, wondering if they had something similar in place, would they have lost so utterly? Could some of them have escaped?

Jack though... The lad hadn't seen combat. True combat, blade to flesh, club to bone, silver and moonlight to shadows and smoke. 

He couldn't help but envy him that. just a little.

Nevertheless, with Pitch still loose somewhere in the world and all manner of nasty beasts and beguiling tempters all part of the local fauna, he could do with a slight edge.

Blowing the dust off the last of the bone rings, he examined the markings with a critical eye, grinned, and carefully scooped them up and into a fox skin bag. He wouldn't add them himself of course, anyone could see that the staff was the focus of Jack's powers. To tamper with it, even with the best of intentions, was just asking for an icicle in sensitive places.

Knocking the packed snow that surrounded him loose, the winter Pooka burst out into the chill of night, breathing deep. The moonlight was strong tonight, and Jack's art glittered like stardust across the land. This world was so different than his own. There, Winter truely was a dead season, where nothing would grow and nothing would move if it could help it. The rare Pooka kits born during this time were usually the only things moving, following the winter wherever it roamed.

Here though... there was life here, even under the snow and ice. Plants didn't die, just slept, like some of the animals. They endured, some even embraced, the winter. He could fit in.

With a grin, he ensured that the bag was firmly tied to his belt and began to lope, barely stirring the fresh, powdery snow as he ran. Jack was visiting other Guardians at the moment, but he was confident the small gift would be safe hanging from his door...

\---------

They were following him again.

They weren't that bad actually. Probably some elites that stood behind to buy others time to escape. Plants barely rustled in their wake, grass barely bent under their weight. But he was the creator and protector of this Warren. No matter how sneaky, nothing could escape his notice.

He ignored them. Let them follow.

The brass and gold contraption lay within the insulated box he carried, and even then a faint chill bit into his fingers. Step one of his plan to prove to Jack, and himself, that he was still worthy. To coax him home, and it took him a shamefully long time to admit that this should have always been Jack's Home instead of just where Jack slept. He would beg, if need be, and he knew that the other Aster, the older, bitter, cynical Aster, would never have considered it.

His destination lay shortly beyond his furthest field, but the centuries of disuse had allowed the ever growing vegetation to run wild, over growing the paths completely. Where he couldn't leap or crawl through the vines, bushes and thorns, he had to pause and redirect the growth aside, parting them like the sea. Finally, he came across the deepest valley in the Warren. The mock Sunlight from the First Light only dipped down into it for a few hours each day, and if regular seasons were permitted here, it would be the perfect spot for a glacier to take root.

Carefully extending his influence, he felt out each of the trees, bushes and wild plants that called this valley their home. A dull ache rose up in his chest as he felt some of the more sensitive plants around the edge of the valley, but he forced himself to continue. Plants could be regrown after all. The rest were more hardy, but even they would suffer the effects...

He shook his head firmly. Keeping the plan firmly at the front of his mind, he ventured to the deepest, coolest part of the valley, already unclasping the case in his arms. Once the region had settled, he could move onto part two... though already he could feel the promise of frostbitten toes in his future. Gardening in knee deep snow was definitely going to be a new challenge. Setting the box down, he removed the lid, swallowing despite his previous resolve.

A shard of Winter... its power only held in check by the Pooka built contraption, thick frost coating the gleaming metal cage and struts. His core ached being this close to it, that gleaming fractured crystal holding everything that he, as a Seasonal of Spring should abhors.

But it also held everything he adored in his Snowflake.

Before he second guessed himself, or attempted to talk himself out of it, he pressed one palm against the cage, fingers tapping over various keys. With a gleam, the cage began to peel, petals of gold and brass pulling back as the struts pushed the glittering shard aloft into the air. Already the bite of winter was gnawing, and he shuddered as the grass and shoots nearby withered under its onslaught. Carefully, he extended the reach of the Shard, inching out further and further, swallowing up the clearing, then wood, the valley...

Locking the Shard's reach into place, he turned tail and ran, even as the dying vegetation around him pounded against his heart.

It would be worth it.

It would always be worth it for his Snowflake.

\------------

In the shadows of a snow laden copse of trees, several pairs of amber eyes burned out of the darkness, following the darting black rabbit as it glided over the snow. The dark, deeper than it had any right to be under a full moon, boiled as a tall shape rose up from the depths, laying a hand upon the black sand creature stamping ground in anticipation, calming it instantly.

The black furred rabbit leapt from snow bank to snow bank, the blank robed figure's face turning blank. The shape. The markings. The crafts hanging from its body.

Pooka.

"Hmm. How very... curious."

With a wave of the hand, the NightMares backed up into the shadows, fading from view, the tall apparition following closely.

"Curious indeed..."

As the shadows rose up to envelop him, his face broke out into a gleaming grin, shark like teeth glinting in the dark.

"This ought to be... Fun."

The moonlight blazed down on the small collection of spindly trees with something akin to accusation as the Nightmare King vanished once more into the dark recesses of the earth, an oblivious Hellebore charging into the night...


	7. Confrontations

After the whole fiasco with Pitch a couple of years ago, the Guardians as a group swore to meet up far more regularly than they had before, leading to the now official quarterly meetings, alternating between each of their headquarters.

The coming Spring coincided neatly with Aster's turn playing host, the Pooka watching from afar as the globe rose out from its protective cairn, benches and a table of living wood sprouting and twisting into shape. Normally, he took a bit of pride in his skills, sculpting and shaping the growth into beautifully ornate designs suitable for each of them. A throne for each, decorated in the basics of their cores; Wonder, Memories, Dreams, Hope and most recently, Fun.

Today, he coaxed out a couple of benches and left it at that. By now the news of his actions will have spread through the grapevine into every ear of the Guardians, and he wasn't expecting the big celebration of reuniting friends as there used to be. As the last of the wood settled into place, he glanced over at the fifth bench, his stomach twisting into knots. Guardian or not, he wouldn't be surprised if Jack abstained from the meeting. It's not like North or Tooth couldn't update him on anything after all.

Rubbing the back of his head, his eyes pulled themselves over to the growing horde of Pooka atop the nearby hill, watching and waiting. There was still plenty of animosity there, memories still fresh in their minds, but he had gotten one or two... maybe not respectful nods, but acknowledgement all the same. Maybe in a couple of years he could have a somewhat civil conversation with them.

North was the first to arrive via snow globe, the imposing bandit striding through the swirling portal without his usual cheer, his brows furrowed and one hand resting, none too subtly, on the hilt of one of his sabres. A harrumph and stiff nod were all the Lagomorph earned in the way of greeting as he sat down at his usual spot, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm while keeping his gaze on Aster.

Sandy was next and he couldn't resist a few brief glyphs that flickered in and out of creation before the stout star plopped himself onto the bench opposite North. Despite his limited, by earth's standards, methods of communicating, Aster could nevertheless feel the anger bubbling off him. Like North, he kept an eye on their Pookan teammate, his expression switching from anger to disappointment and back again.

A deep set sense of dread filled the bunny, growing stronger as Tooth arrived, flanked by several attending fairies. The Sister inhaled sharply as she caught sight of him, and Aster winced as her usual delicate, caring fingers bunched into fists, remembering a certain tooth she had collected that even now lay displayed proudly encased within a small pendant that hung around a new, delicate golden chain around her neck. A trophy from a defeated foe, and he awkwardly rubbed at his jaw, fearing yet perversely looking forward to something similar as the queen floated past, peering critically at his snout. With a sudden sniff and upturning of her nose, mimicked by her hummingbird assistants, she floated over and pointedly sat down next to Sandy, leaving the two remaining benches isolated from each other.

Aster took his own bench, not looking at the bandit and star that flanked him on either side, gripping his paws together atop of the table. An awkward silence filled the usually animated meeting, fingers tapping and a steady stream of hushed commands from Tooth. Sandy, usually floating as he dozed, was shaping various items between his hands. A moon. A star. A sun. Nervous energy radiated from the usually serene being, and he couldn't help but pull himself smaller reflexively.

Minutes seemed to pass like hours, three of the guardians exchanging concerned, yet resigned looks. After half an hour, North sighed and made to stand, gripping the table firmly.

"Appears Frost will not be joining us... For past two months have tracked pack of In-"

A burst of wind and cold silenced the mountain of a man, the foursome looking up to watch Jack descend like a discarded feather, a dark furred Pooka several steps behind. Upon landing, the pair exchanged brief words and parted ways, the black bun pausing only to send a glare Aster's way as he headed towards the waiting Pooka crowd. Slipping into his space between North and Tooth with a small little grateful smile to both, the Winter Herald rammed the end of his crook into the soil and folded his arms, leaning forward.

"Sorry i'm late... you were saying North?"

\--------------

Aster barely paid much attention to the meeting; it was the usual song and dance routine anyway. North reported on the various predatory beasts and their movements, where he would assign or request a few extra eyes on any settlements along their path, and what kind of weaknesses or abilities they should look out for. Tooth reported on the number of children and any common concerns her followers reported. Some of the creatures of the spirit world were more subtle in their methods, causing runaways or family strife to make hunting easier. Sandy monitored dreams and wishes that could indicate the first hints to a wavering belief, who had to focus more where. It was a process that had given them plenty of early warning before, and only the most patient and cautious of spirits, like Pitch, would bide their time enough to slip through the cracks.

Drumming his hands on the table, Jack leaned back and began going through his own portion of the meeting. While his belief base had improved over the years and was growing steadily, the winter Sprite had no fixed job unlike the others. Instead he went on about the various rumours and gossip overheard from other spirits, planned storms and blizzards the land needed to recuperate from the growth of the previous year and when he would be available to help whomever needed a pair of hands. Sometimes he'd be with North, learning while helping the larger man weave a spell or two in his workshop. Other times it would be with Tooth to examine the structure of her palace and do some light repairs, or see to her fairies. Whilst Sandman alone could do his job, he did appreciate Jack taking the time to include him in his Guardian Mingling, painting a few images of his dreams in the Frost if it was cold enough.

Aster noted without much surprise that Jack didn't so much as glance at him once as he spoke, nor planned in any time in the Warren for that matter. If the others noticed this, then they kept it to themselves. When it was his turn, he just rattled off a few figures regarding the various charmed or enchanted regions of the world and if they needed topping up, mentioning the necessity of a flying visit to the Paris Catacombs to keep the restless spirits there in peaceful slumber.

The official stuff out of the way, the meetings would then turn to the friendlier side, showing off new designs or swapping gossip and stories between them. The abrupt standing up of Jack however blatantly announced that the meeting was well and truely over with, causing Aster to near fall off his bench in a bid to catch up with him.

"Jackie, wait!"

If he felt the rising tensions behind him, the subtle sounds of hands grasping hilts, he didn't show it. Bounding on all fours, he slowed as he approached, keeping his head down, hands raised. Harmless and contrite.

"Snowflake... Let's talk... I mean... please?"

He closed his eyes tight and forced himself to push through. Talking things over was never really his strong point, he was far more comfortable letting his actions speak for him. But he knew his acts were everything that was wrong with them, their relationship, and slowly brought his eyes up to meet those of his Mate.

He flinched at the cold, almost expressionless gaze staring back at him, but wasn't surprised. Accepting it, he let it wash over him, shame following in its wake.

"Ah know ye don't have reason t' listen... Ah know ye have every right t' walk away  Jackie... Ah just... Ah _hope_  ye'll at least hear me out..."

\--------

Inwardly, Jack seethed, barely holding himself back from grinding his teeth or clutching his staff too tight. Staring at that pitiful excuse for a grey rug that had the balls to look sorry, the desire to form a blizzard in the heart of the Warren warred with his almost fatherly concern with the Pooka now living there. If he knew somewhere else they could live and thrive, in as much safety and comfort as this...

With a deep breath he eased his grip on his crook, letting himself float down until his toes brushed the grass. There was also the fact that Easter was born here, and a snowstorm would undoubtably affect the lagomorph's ability to pull it off next year. He wouldn't begrudge Aster the extra work, but disappointing the kids, weakening the Guardians as a whole? Not his goal here.

Instead he rested his crook over his shoulder, not so much as he was finished with it as it would be much easier to swing at the rabbit if he didn't like what he heard. A brief nod, and he began to slowly float closer to the rabbit, though he was careful to leave himself several arms lengths away from the shapeshifter.

The happy look of Hope on his face when he agreed to follow him was something he could have done without though. A quiet nod to the other Guardians sent them on their way reluctantly, rising up off the ground to follow the retreating form of Aster. Here and there along the route he spotted several Pooka, some sparring, some picking herbs and various fruits, and some polishing regal looking armour to a faint shine. They too fell behind as he followed Aster deeper into the Warren than he ever had before, and with a faint ache in his chest he realised he didn't care. Only a year ago and he would have been looking at everything, captivated by the eternal garden's colours and scents. To have lost that little bit of him, to have allowed Aster to spoil something as gorgeous as the Warren hurt more than he would have expected.

So focused on looking inward, he barely realised when the temperature, normally an eternal spring day, started to cool off. When his breath started to fog slightly under the steady glow of the First Light, he jostled back into the present...

Just in time to catch several snowflakes, not born of his touch, drift past his face.

Aster stood under the canopy of several oaks, branches bent to form an arch, holding back a few shivers as several cold breezes ruffled his fur. The woods, seeming to encompass an entire valley were so thick with trunks, branches and thorny bushes, that Jack didn't think even he could slip through we're it not for the obviously magically sculpted opening. Holding out a hand, he felt the tingle of familiar magic in his fingertips, curiosity and concern warring over each other before he remembered his anger, yanking his hand back and outright glaring at the bunny. Aster's expression was kept straight as he carefully loped through the boundary between Warren and the ring of oak trees, looking back every few steps to ensure Jack was still floating behind him. For some reason he couldn't name, Jack followed, curiosity pulling him along for the most part. There was also the faintest feeling that maybe Aster had found another winter spirit to allow into the Warren... As they travelled, the Oaks went from emerald green to vivid oranges, reds and browns, creating large piles of crisp dry leaves that tingled Jack's core, an urge to leap and allow gravity to pull him down into the rich, warm colours filling him up momentarily. He spent several moments picking out various shades and swelling acorns before they began fading into spindly branches as the pair emerged into...

Winter. In the Warren.

Aster couldn't stop the shivers that had developed by now, but he kept his mouth shut as they progressed, the first snowdrift coming up to his ankles. The usual deciduous trees made way for towering pines and other evergreens, robust bushes and surprisingly strong wintering plants starting to spread out into the blank slate provided to them. Coaxing himself higher, Jack peered over the canopy, his eyes sweeping over the mostly blank snowfield. Signs of recent growth and transplantation lay here and there, and near the border of the nearest field of snowdrops lay several carefully uprooted bushes, several deep holes dug into the permafrost.

For the first time since stepping under the arch, Aster lifted his face when Jack descended once more to the ground, ears folded back but his eyes so hopeful as they sought out the icy blue pair...

"This... The Warren was never a home for ye, was it Snowflake..."

It was more statement of fact than a question, and they both knew it. Awkwardly, he rubbed at his arms, looking around the newest garden in the cavern. Snowdrops lined the stone path, warding away the ice and snow for easy travel. Pale heathers added a splash of subtle colours that guided the eyes towards important landmarks, or what would become them in any case. Chionodoxa sprouted around a painstakingly painted mural of Jack himself, glowing faintly with pale Spring magic to keep the artwork illuminated by twilight well into the night. It was perhaps his most ambitious gardening projects to date, and though normally he would feel elated at the challenge and resulting successes so far, he just felt... drained.

"That was mah fault... Ah was so... so stuck on th' idea of bein' th' last that... Ah guess ah thought ah should act like it."

He shook his head while snorting, carefully starting to move, shuffling to the side. His eyes followed Jack's staff as he tapped tree trunks and snowdrifts, a faint smile crossing over the eternal teen's face. Emboldened, he stepped forward, almost hungering for a sign of approval or happiness from his Snowflake.

"Ye should never have put up wi' that Snowflake. Ye were... an' still are th' best thing that's happened t' me, even way back in th' Golden Age. Ah should've been smart enough to se what ah had, that ah was so lucky t' have someone like ye t' love me..."

Immediately, Jack's face twisted into a frown, turning away from the Rabbit as he gripped his staff in both hands. Swallowing, Bunny stopped his shuffling and took a step back, starting to tug at one of his ears out of a nervous need to do something with his hands.

"There were a lot of things I put up with. I don't think a... a _pretty garden_ is going to cut it."

He nodded, finding a rock and sitting after brushing off the worst of the snow, biting a lip as certain delicates started to cool down considerably. Maybe if he offered to let Jack freeze the bloody things off, he might...

"Yeah mate... Ah wrecked things, good an' proper. Ah gotta set it right. This ain't much now... but ah'm gonna keep goin'. Ah'm gonna prove t' you... An mahself... that Ah'm worth a second chance. Somehow."

Scooping up a lawful of powdery snow, the rabbit crushed it into a ball, tossing it into the air and catching it as he tried to form the words, heading backwards to the entrance. He had already outstayed his welcome by far. The whole idea of this place was to be a refuge for the spirit, not a prison to inflict his presence upon him.

"Ah'll change yer wards t' bring ye right here. Ye won't even have t' cross paths wi' me if ye don't wanna."

The ball was tossed aside, one paw resting on the First of the Oak trees on this side of the divide, holding himself from looking back. He knew all he would find would be angry stares and empty eyes, and he didn't think he could handle much more of that.

"Ah luv ye mate. Always will, an' if mah own stupidity wrecked somethin' this amazin', ah didn't deserve it in th' first place. This part o' th' Warren is yers, now an' always."

He let go and before Jack could say anything he leapt onto all fours and ran like Pitch's nightmares were behind him, refusing to look back. He had plans to make, bridges to rebuild and a spirit to re-court. This time properly. And it had to be slow, delicate and deliberate. He had to prove he could be trusted again, prove that he truely had Jack's happiness in mind, prove that he could, and would, maintain that level of affection for years, decades, centuries to come. Not for the first time since his eyes were forcibly opened, he wondered if he could take a leap back to when things started to go wrong and give himself a much deserved wake up call with the business end of his fists. The odds that old Ombric would let him go jumping for something like a lovers quarrel were minuscule however, but the thought of giving himself a quick rough up was enough to pull a small smile out of him.

The dark figure standing at the exit made him grimace however, and he slid to a halt before the stout, heavy set Pooka. Rising up onto his hind legs, he huffed cool fog and mimicked his folded arms, staring down at the snow, ears twitching as he awaited the inevitable mocking. 

"... Hmmph. Impressive. Didnae think ye' had th' balls fer somethin' like this."

The lighter toned Pooka simply grunted at the not quite as bitter as it could have been sort-of compliment and walked past, Hellebore's eyes following him.

"But that ain't gonna be enough fer 'im t' crawl back in yer nest wi' ye."

With gritted teeth Aster twisted round, glaring his rival in the eye before barking out an old curse that caused a nearby flower to wilt, throwing up his hands angrily and near near slamming a fist against the others face with his wild gestures.

"Ah know that ye wanker! Ah ain't courtin' him!"

He fell back onto his haunches, exhaustion suddenly sapping at his strength and sighed, rubbing at his face wearily. It had taken quite a few sleepless nights to even get what he was already dubbing as the **Forest** this far along as it was before the meeting. Not that he could sleep much these days without a constant reminder he no longer had Jack's cooling back resting against his torso. The once comfortable warmth of his home was now an oppressive heat, even in the deepest pit he could dig out.

"Its about doin' what ah should've done long ago. Makin' 'im feel welcome. At home."

He pulled himself upright and turned away from the Winter Pooka, ears folded back tight against his skull.

"Maybe then we can start fresh like... if ye haven't snatched 'im away by then."

Hellebore watched as Aster retreated to the warmth of his Warren, leaving the darker rival to linger outside the opening. Slowly, he grinned, stretching out his arms and slowly began to clap in the empty clearing.

"Well well... Bravo Aster...  _Now_ yer makin' this a challenge!"

He shook himself down and eased a toe over the divide between Spring and Winter, feeling a delightful little shiver as the cold embraced him. With a flick of the tail, he bounded completely into the shade of the oaks above, the clicking of bone rattling out from the pouch at his hip and humming an old song.

He had a Frost to seduce.


	8. Black as...

It had been centuries since he had reached out like this. The years had not been kind since his imprisonment on Earth, his powers weakened by the Light of the ever watching moon and tied to the belief of the world.

But like any skill, it never really went away, just... Dormant.

The remaining Fearlings that he had brought with him were rounded up and contained, yes, but no matter how tightly bound or securely tied down, though he couldn't sense  _where_ they were, it was enough that they simply were, brimming with the promise of fears old and new. So many potential recruits lay in this world if their hungry little fangs found terrified little shapes, twisting their forms into his army of shades and oils...

So naturally, when he reached out and no longer sensed his most dangerous, most effective of warriors, General Pitchiner threw what would be unkindly regarded to as a temper tantrum...

His Nightmares, pathetic shadows of his beloved Fearlings, fled from his enraged and slightly despairing wail, a few unlucky sand creatures crushed against the walls before they found shelter. He paid them no heed as he marched through their shifting remains, scattering black sand to and fro. They'd reform easily enough without Light to burn their darkness away. It was practically the only thing they had going for them.

His Domain was perhaps the most unnatural of those on Earth. Where one ended up was just as dependant on your thoughts as to the direction you went. Blank walls became cavernous halls, steps leading up sent you down, and walking out of a room through the door you entered didn't necessarily lead you back to where you began. Only the Globe, the dark opposite of those the Guardians protected, was a stable, fixed positionhere, dead centre within his realm.

It was through these halls that the Fearling King marched, rage boiling through his veins, warming the structures around him from merely drab and eerie to menacing and vindictive. The Nightmares that had fled his earlier outburst now willingly surged into the various cages that hung suspended from the ceiling, compressing their sand and taking a dim echo of courage from each other's presence. Deeper into the pit he strode, dragging darkness behind him that snuffed out all traces of whatever meagre illumination he had allowed to settle here. 

It was here, in the deepest depths, that Pitch kept his armoury. The moonbeam sword from the Time Begore, still tightly bound in its scabbard. An iron maiden, his newest addition, hung suspended lovingly above a dank pit. Various brands hung above a fire pit, Pitch pausing ever so slightly to smirk at them. Paranoia and a few whispers were all it took, the so called "enlightened" religious nutjobs spreading more fear in a day than he had in a year back then.

Dismissing the memories, he stepped further, passing by the human collection and heading into the truely old devices... Pooka. Llamas. The Tsar's kingdom itself. All had their darker periods, and forever they would remain on display in his private museum to pain and terror.

Past the relics, he came, at last, to a cabinet. More of a closet these days, thanks to the strange belief that he lurked within them. Yanking the doors open, he audibly sighed and cooed a little, ashen fingers trailing over Dream Pirate blades and Nightmare talons, of which his sand constructs were pale imitations of. But it's what lay in the centre, in its own glass covered pedestal that drew his gaze.

Fearling Venom. Bottled at the height of his reign. Still as potent as the day it was drawn.

The glass shifted to sand and collapsed as he reached out, both hands cradling the precious bottle to his breast. Enough for one dose, it had lain, waiting for just the right moment... children were watched far more carefully these days, and the Guardians were always sniffing around for signs of his presence. Any new Fearling would be quickly rounded up, his chance squandered.

He turned on his heel and stepped forward into his Globe Room, stroking the stopper on the vial with an almost perverting glee. If they got rid of his Fearlings... if they thought the danger passed... if they let their guard down...

Slowly, he began to chuckle. Chortle. Laugh. Rising in pitch until the cages shook, their occupants more terrified of the mad cackling than his earlier rage, echoing throughout the halls...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, about to start writing a more fluffy tale of returning Pooka, so keep an eye out for that one starting shortly!


End file.
